Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“You don’t speak for her,” Brenda spits back.
“Yes, he does,” Ivy replies as she pulls away from me. “I’ll pack a bag and get Cally’s things.”
I nod, and when Brenda moves to follow Ivy, I step in front of her, blocking her way.
“You’re a fucking bully,” she says.
“Oh no. That’s not me. That’s you.” I step closer, making her nervous. I’d never hit a woman, but I’ll intimidate this one. “You hit her.”
“What’s it to you?”
“You won’t ever lay a hand on her ever again.”
We stay like this, glaring, until Ivy hurries back. She’s put Cally in a carrier, and I help her take everything she needs out to my SUV.
“I can’t leave my truck,” she says, and I fucking hate how her voice wobbles. “She’ll do something to it. I can’t—”
“Okay, it’s okay. Follow me home, wildcat.”
She nods, her eyes jerk over to where her mom is watching us in the window, and then she gets in her truck and waits for me to start my car. She stays in my rearview the entire way to my house, and once we get everything inside and set Cally free to explore the house, I tug Ivy to me and wrap my arms around her.
“I need to hold you,” I murmur against her hair.
“Good. Because I need to be held.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
IVY
The past twenty-four hours have been a nightmare. My mother is far worse than she ever was when I was a kid. She’s so fucking cruel. And she kicked Cally twice, and it tore my goddamn heart out.
Just before Xander walked in, I was desperately trying to decide how I was going to remove Cally and me from the situation. But then he stormed in, and I’d never been so relieved to see anyone in my life.
“You didn’t call me,” he murmurs against my hair. We’re standing in the middle of his living room, just holding each other in the quiet.
“When?”
“At any time, Red. I told you to call me if you needed me.”
I sigh and close my eyes, listening to his strong heart thud against my cheek. The same cheek that still stings from the slap my own mom cracked against my face less than an hour ago.
“It’s not your mess, Xander.”
He drags his hand down my spine, and I let out a little yelp when he suddenly lifts me in his arms and carries me to the couch.
“You shouldn’t be doing that,” I tell him.
“I’m fine.” He sits with me on his uninjured thigh, and I move to wiggle away, but he clamps his arms around me. “Stay.”
“Your knee—”
He shakes his head and rests his forehead against my temple. “Stay.”
With a sigh, I relax against him and wrap my arms around his neck so I can bury my face against his skin.
God, he smells good.
“Are you okay?” I ask him.
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and then his voice rumbles with “I have a sister.”
Frowning, I pull back so I can see his face. “You have Ava and Harper.”
Xander brushes his thumb over the freckles on my left cheek, and his eyes follow the movement. It sends a lovely little zing through me. Warmth and longing and contentment settle in, and it feels . . . nice.
“I have a new sister,” he clarifies, and my eyebrows climb in surprise.
“What?”
He licks his lips, and I don’t know why I think he needs it, but I can feel in my chest that this man needs a hug.
So I shift, straddling his lap now and putting all my weight on my knees, and I wrap my arms around his neck again and hug him to me.
His arms are steel bands around my back. He buries his nose in my neck, and I rock him, just a little, and hold him tight.
And God, does it feel good.
To feel our hearts beating and to have silence around us as we simply sit and hold each other. I don’t think anyone has held me—truly held me—since I was a baby.
“Who is it?” I whisper.
“Indigo.”
What?
I swallow and pull back just far enough to see his face. “Seriously?”
Xander nods. “She found her birth certificate. We share a mother.”
Jesus.
I have so many questions, but I don’t know if I should ask them.
“Okay.” I push my fingers through his hair and love the way it feels so soft and silky. “Well, that’s pretty cool.”
He lifts an eyebrow.
“Not cool?”
“I’m—” He shrugs a shoulder, and I feel like a jerk.
“I should have asked you how you’re feeling about this. You can talk to me. I’m Switzerland over here. No skin in this game.”
He brushes my hair back over my shoulder, and I silently admit to myself that being this close to Xander is heaven.
Leaning against him, sitting on him, could become an addiction.
“I guess I never really thought about what my mom did after she abandoned us. I was almost four when she left.” He goes back to ghosting his fingertip over the skin of my face, and I want to purr. I want to lean into him and beg him never to stop touching me. “And I didn’t want to think about her new life. I didn’t wonder about what she was doing, and how she could just carry on and forget about the four children she left behind.”